


Shitty day

by MiloBettany



Series: Brock [1]
Category: American (US) Actor RPF
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, MILD chocking, Mention of pegging, mention of BDSM relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-19 20:59:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17608865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiloBettany/pseuds/MiloBettany
Summary: OFC comes home and had a shitty day. Brock tries to comfort her ;)





	Shitty day

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, it has been a while since I´ve written/posted something. So please bare with me, I tried to edit it as good as possible, but my English has gotten quiet rusty in the last years...  
> There will be more short smuts about this constelation if annyone wants more, I´m also up for sugestions ;)

Anger is a powerful notion. It make people able to move mountain, to withstand harsh circumstances. Sometimes anger is also the thing left from comfortable situations. 

Anger is exactly what she is feeling when she enters the apartment. 

She told him about the meeting, the rude evaluation she just received for not keeping up some bullshit. Her blood is rushing in her ears when she kicks her shoes in a corner and stomps in the living room where he is waiting for her. 

Like always he knows what to do, even it is just kneeling naked on the floor, the full brown hair falling down his straight back like the last pit of modesty left for what is coming. 

Usually she refuses to play when she is in a bad mood. Sits the deep emotions out until her nerves are cooled of and her mind is clear and calm again. But this time he is demanding. Demanding of her rage and frustration. Offering himself as a tool to get rid of the steam. 

And she knows that he can take it. With his 6”7´ and the physique of a Greek god. 

He is not lifting his gaze when she enters, stares down at the carpet, probably zooms in until he finds the one fiber that keeps his nerves calm. Coming closer, she can smell the clean scent of his body. His favorite body wash, the sun which must have kissed his bronze skin good night just a few moments ago. 

“Hey baby.”, she rasps, flops down on the floor in front of him, folds her legs together and just stares. 

His blue orbs twitch up for a short moment, obviously checking her mood, trying so hard to hold back the exciting grin flashing over his face. 

She sighs and rubs her face with the flat palms of her hands. Somehow there is not the strength in her to just switch into her role. Suddenly she is too exhausted from all the rage held back during the day. 

Her palms press her closed eyes into they sockets as she sniffs. Damn cold, she thinks. 

Suddenly there are warm, thick arms wrapped around her, pressing her insisting against his hot chest. “Don´t be sad. He is a damn asshole and does not deserve any of your emotions.”, his chest rumbles. The sharp scratch of his beard fills the silence as he rubs his check against the top of her head. She knows that he is true. She knows that she should not bother herself with the thought of this tiny specimen ruining her reputation. 

Where ever she will go, who ever she will meet, everyone will think her to be an arrogant know-it-all who is not able to fit herself in a team. 

And this is not true. This is just a lie. Constructed around her to take the last bit of confidence off of her. 

“Do you want something to eat?”, he asks, his huge hands brushing through her hair, taming her mane. She nods slowly. 

All this shit plus being on a diet just sucks. She is constantly hungry, constantly annoyed, constantly thinking about sweets and pizzas and soft drinks she would love to devour out of anger, sadness, disappointment.

But of course she does not talk about it. Of course she keeps up the happy, weight losing facade do please him. 

Sometimes she wonders if he knows. If the tiny bits of chocolate he sneaks in her lunchbox, the juice boxes he hands her every morning is just his way to show her he knows. 

“Would a pizza cheer you up?”, he asks, whispers seductively in her ear. 

His lips are warm and soft. A promise of unknown pleasures he could let wash over her. 

She sighs and reaches for his solid body. It is just ridiculous how well build he is. She knows that looking this good comes with a lot of work, a lot of pain and fighting the own inner asshole. He must have had a waxing these days, his skin is just too soft. No stubble, no scratch or unevenness. The wonders a proper body peeling can work are miraculous. 

It is numbing, the perfection he offers. Her hands wander down his thick thighs, massaging the firm muscles she discovers on her way downwards. 

A pizza is suddenly not what he has in mind. 

She lifts her gaze, searching his calm mime for any sign of his own wishes. 

“I think pizza would not be sufficient at the moment.”, she mumbles. She is too tired for talking, used all her words during the day and hopes he wont force lengthy discussions upon her. 

“Is that so?”, he asks with a cheeky grin, lays his head slop and wiggles his eyebrow. 

How can such a strong, tall being find so much sweetness in itself. 

She simply nods and gets up on her feet, stares down at him, musters the light blond strands of his hair. Sun-kissed, she thinks. 

“Well, come...”, she whispers and makes her way down the hallway to the wide bedroom. 

She knows that Brock will follow. She can hear the muffled steps of his bare feet. Like a hungry wolf stalking her down. 

The big brown chest in front of their bed was his idea. She never suspected him to have a taste for the darker side of passion. Even he is not that submissive, he has a masochistic strike on him. Maybe explains all the training and soreness he throws himself constantly into. Who knows. 

She opens the chest and throws a questioning look into hit. 

“So… what am I allowed to do to you?”, she asks and stares at a spot, just short upon his navel. 

He comes closer, squats behind her so his long legs straddle her. “Depends on how you feel.”, he rasps again, obviously not able to tune his natural given sexiness down. A spike of anger flushes through her blood again, forces the numbness away and pushes some need between her legs.  
“My mood is genuinely shitty...”, she mumbles and observes his lean hand disappearing in the depth of the chest, coming back up with a box, wrapped in black silk paper. The dark red bow looks clumsily made, what makes her smile. 

He is trying so hard sometimes. 

With a tiny sigh she unfolds the paper and stares at his gift, disbelieving. 

“No shit?”, she whispers, leans her head against his chest and feels his member pushing already half-hard in her back. 

Well, there, there. Someone is excited. 

They had talked about it, a few times already. Tugged between warm sheets and spend from excessive love-making. At first it was just an idea, some silly whispers in the darkness. Then, one day, it became a carefully formulated question between two bites of broccoli. A shy request between goodbye-kisses. 

And now there it is, black and shiny in a see-through plastic box. 

A set of dildos. Different sizes, different shapes, but all with one destination in the end. 

Brock hands her a little bag with a leather belt. The material soaks them in its own earthy scent and her thumb wanders over it.

“So you really wanna give it a try then?”, she asks. Suddenly bashed by a wave of uncertainty and worry. What if she is going to hurt him? What if she gets carried away to much. He is built like a brick house, but his soul is therefore so much softer and easy to irritate. 

He laughs warm and heartily, his whole body shakes under the vibrations. 

“Don´t worry about me, goddess. I will take all you have to give.” With these words he gets up and climbs on the thick mattress, his legs lightly spread, offering a delicious sight between his golden thighs. The plush head of his half-erect penis leaks already clear drops and as longer she looks as more frequent the meat fills under harsh throbbing. 

His confidence in the moment soaks the room, makes the fading winter light warmer and the situation more natural. 

He is certainly not the first man to ask his girl to give him a proper pounding. 

How that must feel, she wonders, still sitting in front of the bed, still clothed in her work outfit. The feeling of his heavy body shaking beneath her, his full lips begging for a harsher treatment, covered in sweat, bruises and scratches. 

Oh, the horrible things she wants to do to his magnificent body.

Slowly he crawls up the bed, sinks deeper in the load of cushions lined up the headboard. 

His endless legs spread wider, offering a clear sight to the shiny base nestled between his firm cheeks. 

“Dinner is ready, madam...”, he sighs while a big hand wanders down his chest, giving his nipple a harsh squeeze on the way down. His lean fingers ripple over his pronounced abs, sinking deeper while passing his clean trimmed pubic hair, before they grip the base of his fully swollen rod firmly. 

“You are a rotten beast, Brock.”, she snarls without heat in it. 

Everyone would think he is a man made of cuddles and sweet words but the truth has so much more layers. 

Slowly she gets up, steps next to the bed, enjoying the lustful few he offers. 

His hand wanders lazily up and down his length while his breath goes a bit slower, a tad deeper than usual.

“Are you going to make me wait?”, he whispers and spreads his lower limbs wider, pushes the heels of his feet deeper into the mattress. 

With a heavy sigh she starts to undress. With every item discarded on the floor the weight of the day loosens. When the last bit of fabric lands on the floor she climbs between his legs, touching the hot skin as she wanders upwards. The closer she comes, the faster moves his hand, tiny sobs and suppressed moans fill the room as he draws his foreskin down like he wants to present her his twitching tip. Wants her to know just how much he desires her, needs her right now. 

And there it is gone, the anger, the insecurity. She just wants to be with him, feel him. She needs the feeling of safety in his strong arms as he holds her tight. 

“Brock...”, she sighs and leans forward to press a hungry kiss on his sweaty belly, nibbles softly on the tight skin covering his abdomen. “Yeah, baby?”, he mumbles, stops his hand to cradle her face with it. 

She can smell his musk on it, savors the water filling her mouth. She has an appetite now, indeed. It´s certainly not for pizza. 

“Would you mind to deliver the pounding right know?”, she asks a bit shyly, answers his gaze, amazed how huge his pupils can grow in a moment like this. 

“Of course not.”, she grins, grabs her under the armpits and simply manhandles her on the mattress, taking his place between her legs without bravado. 

He smiles softly as his hands run over her body, petting every bit of cool skin with firm strokes while his thighs force her legs more open. 

His eyes room over her folds which are already swollen and soaked wet just from the show he delivered. 

“Just relax, baby. I take care of you.”, he whispers, leans closer and catches her lips in a fiery kiss. His tongue isn´t shy, pushes its way in her mouth to plunder it ruthlessly. His moans vibrate through her body, his heavy hand holding her throat tightens with every lick of tongue. 

Yes, that is better, she thinks as his grip grows tighter and tighter. 

The loss of air makes her head swim.  
Suddenly she realizes what keeps her under his spell. 

His ridiculously beautiful eyes. The kind of eyes with a dark ring framing the iris, giving his warm grayish gaze something starring, focused. It is unsettling but comforting at the same time. Maybe it is his thick dark brows. 

The neatly trimmed fingernails of his huge hand presses slowly in her skin, restricts her breathing further as he leans closer, catches her lips with his perfect teeth. 

Annoyingly attractive, she thinks and tangles her hand in his thick waves, draws him closer and catches her breath as he presses his palm tightly against her throat.

“I don´t think you are in need of a bit discipline today.”, he mumbles, rubs the tip of his nose against hers and cradles her face. 

She shakes her head, missing the pressure around her neck. She likes it when he does that, controlling every bit of air entering her body. Slowly the palms of her feet rub up his thighs, just to lock begin the small of is back to force him closer. 

His raging bone clashes against er pulsing folds so a delicious shiver runs through her body. Lazily he rubs his lips against hers, his breath already stutters, the heavy muscles in his arms twitch with every demanding pull of her feet. There is no preamble when he enters her with a practiced push of his hips. 

There is no hesitation as he pushes himself fully in her, gives her no moment to adjust before he circles his hips. Just friction against her folds and the feeling of being fully stuffed. 

The movements are lazy, lingering but constant. His weight sinks slowly onto her, presses a bit of air out of her chest before he braces himself on is lower arms. His lips rub against hers in synchronization with his hips. Steady and deep, every touch caressing her to the core of her soul. 

“I really like you, you know?”, he whispers, breathless as he presses his hips closer, tries to aim deeper. “I don´t want you to be sad or insecure...”

His blown pupils stare into her face, unfocused, in need to catch all of her mime when his circles grow narrower, faster. Every twitch of her core pulses in his flesh, every shaky breath finds its echo in his mouth. 

Her nails scratch over his scalp as she drags it lower, snakes her hungry tongue between his lightly parted lips do savor every bit she can have of him. 

The meaty arms framing her head start to visibly shiver. There is no circling any more, no teasing pushing deeper. His hips pistol forth and backwards, like something has snapped behind his eyes. Their tongues fight, hands clasp and claw uncontrolled at bodies, the smacking sound of wet skin against each other is the only thing that can be heard, mixed with gasping breaths and suppressed moans and growls. 

It is not delicate, just purposeful as he speeds up. Her legs already cramp as it hits her. The deep high climbing up her spine pushes the last bit of breath out of her lungs. Shivering he scratches down his back, giving his clouded mind the rest of stimuli to make him come. It is painful as he hammers deep into her the last time, to make sure her body receives ever drop he gives her. 

The feeling of hot honey filling her belly surprises her every time anew. 

With a loud smack their lips part, sore and swollen. He smiles, like always, his eyes now focused on hers as his long fingers comb through her sweaty hair. 

“You good?”, he mumbles, his heartbeat hammers against her chest like a war drum, slowly but steady growing slower. 

A simple nod is her answer before she closes his eyes. 

“Pizza?”, he whispers in her sweaty skin before he kisses the spot between her breast. 

Another nod. Where are her words, goddammit?

He smirks and peeks their lips together one last time before he jumps out of the bed and wanders naked out of the room. 

How can he be so energetic after love making, she wonders and looks at the box still laying on a corner of the bed.


End file.
